


Fireflies will light your way

by aestivate



Category: Young Justice, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 10:54:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aestivate/pseuds/aestivate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a family dinner at Casa de Reyes, Jaime and Bart talk Faith: Even if thinks Jaime’s beliefs are ridiculous, even if he will never understand why Jaime holds so much stock to Faith, even if he can never believe himself because of all he’s been through and all he’ll go through, this is enough. Bluepulse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireflies will light your way

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: K+  
> Characters: Bart Allen/Impulse, Jaime Reyes/Blue Beetle, Milagro Reyes, Bianca Reyes, Alberto Reyes  
> Summary: After a family dinner at Casa de Reyes, Jaime and Bart talk Faith: Even if thinks Jaime’s beliefs are ridiculous, even if he will never understand why Jaime holds so much stock to Faith, even if he can never believe himself because of all he’s been through and all he’ll go through, this is enough. Bluepulse.  
> Author’s Note: Contains theological discussion as the main centerpiece, if you’re offended by such things turn back now. However, there’s still fluffy Bluepulse. :p  
> Word Count: 2,592

The dining room table at Casa de Reyes is groaning from the weight of a nearly-overwhelming number of succulent Mexican dishes, the likes of which Bart has never seen, smelled, or tasted before. All of it looks incredible, and he’d like nothing more to happily tuck in. To his immediate left are fluffy tortillas, assorted with the freshest salsa, pico de gallo, beans of three different varieties, and two different types of protein. To his right is a shrimp and tilapia dish that makes Bart weak with hunger, and directly in front of him are plates piled high with freshly steamed vegetables.

 

Milagro bursts in to the dining room with the last dish, and she stands on tiptoes to set the freshly baked cornbread onto the table. Bart is just about ready to lunge ravenously at the food, fork and knife in hand.

 

He still isn’t really used to table manners. At least at the Garricks’, as soon as Jay and Joan put the food on the table he’s allowed to start eating right away. Here, at the Reyes’, however, it’s a different story.

 

Jaime nudges him hard in his side and Bart shrinks back down, defeated. He wants to protest that he can’t exactly control himself with all of this delicious food in front of him, but Jaime gives him a death glare and Bart sets his utensils down.

 

Milagro and Bianca settle into their places at the table with the speed of individuals far more ancient than they, and at this point, Bart is feeling voracious. He glances at Jaime with a look of _“pleasepleasepleasePLEASE can we start now?!_ ” but Jaime merely narrows his eyes at him and gives a slight shake of the head.

 

“Bart, thank you for joining us today,” says Bianca Reyes with a slight Hispanic flair in her pronunciation.

 

“No, thank _you_ for having me, Mrs. Reyes!” replies Bart happily. Then, picking up his utensils again, he says rapidly, “So when can we start eating all this food looks so delicious it’d be a shame if it gets cold, if you don’t mind I’ll just start...”

 

Jaime nudges him again harder, and Bart pouts, dropping his utensils with a loud _clang!_ “Dude. _Cállate._ No one starts eating until we pray.”

 

“We _what?!”_ whispers Bart hoarsely, out of earshot from the rest of the family.

 

“Pray,” replies Jaime, shooting Bart yet another glower.

 

“Jaime, why don’t you say grace tonight?” suggests Alberto, Jaime’s father.

  
“Sure,” says Jaime, to the apparent shock of the rest of his family.

 

“Wow, no fight tonight. Maybe Bart is a good influence on you, _mijo_ ,” says Bianca, playfully, linking arms with her husband and lacing her fingers in his.

 

“He just wants to show off in front of his _B-O-Y-F-R-I-E-N-D,_ ” giggles Milagro smugly, taking her brother’s right hand.

 

Jaime’s and Bart’s eyes are instantly blown wide and they both look away, embarrassed. “Milagro, shut up!” cries Jaime, clearly flustered. He slides into rapid-fire Spanish with phrases that sound suspiciously like death threats, while Milagro looks particularly triumphant from her place at the table. “Mom, make her shut up!”

 

“Jaime, don’t be so rude to your sister, and Milagro, stop teasing your brother in front of his guest,” says Bianca sternly.

 

“Any moment now, _mijo_ , the food really is getting cold at this point,” says Alberto mildly.

 

“Alright, alright, already!” snaps Jaime, clearly still rattled. He holds his left hand out for Bart.

 

“Um...” Bart hesitates.

 

“We Reyes always hold hands while we pray!” says Bianca with a smile, holding out her right hand for him to take. “Don’t be shy, dear. It’s just how we do things around here.” She winks slyly.

  
“Alright then...” Bart grabs Bianca’s soft hand with his left and slides the fingers of his right hand in between Jaime’s calloused one.

 

The rest of the table instantly sits up a little bit straighter and bows their heads. Eyes close. The difference in atmosphere from a moment ago until now is alarming. Bart looks around frantically for one panicked nanosecond and then follows suit, lowering his head and squeezing his eyes shut. All the while, Jaime keeps one eye open and he shuts it once he sees that Bart has taken the hint.

 

“Uhhh... Dear Lord, thank you for bringing us all together for dinner like this and bless the food that we eat, bless my mother for taking the time to prepare all of this with all the love You give, bless my dad for all of the hard work he does day in and day out, bless my dear _hermana_ for being such an annoying little brat...”

 

“ _Hey!”_

“Not appropriate, Jaime,” cuts in Bianca sternly.

Jaime continues without skipping a beat, “...and a _darling_ gift from Your bounty, thank you Lord for bringing Bart here to El Paso safely and bless him for joining my family today... In the name of our Father, Jesus Christ’s name, amen.”

 

“Amen!” pipes Milagro cheerfully.

 

“Amen, dig in!” says Bianca, clapping her hands.

 

“Amen to that!” says Alberto, tucking a napkin around his shirt collar.

 

Out of politeness, Bart thinks he should try the word as well.  He gulps. “A-amen.” It feels bizarre coming from his mouth. He chews his lip. The whole praying thing made him feel immensely awkward.

 

“Mom, pass the tortillas,” demands Milagro impatiently, using her arms to push herself up higher on the table, eyeing the plate of tortillas enthusiastically.

 

“Patience, grasshopper. _I_ get to eat them first,” says Jaime smugly, grabbing the plate and plopping two tortillas onto his own.

 

“In what world is that fair?!” cries Milagro with a huff, plopping herself back down in her seat. “I asked first.”

 

“In a world in which I am the older brother and you are the little sister,” chuckles Jaime cheekily.

 

“Mo- _om_!”

 

“Jaime, give the tortillas to your sister. Give some to Bart, too.”

 

“Hu—what?” says Bart, reverie snapped. He blinks twice and two tortillas are on his plate.

 

“Eat, Bart!” urges Bianca, spooning tilapia into his plate. “You’re so skinny. I would think that you don’t eat enough at all!”

Jaime snaps his head towards Bart in response to the comment, eyes wide with concern. Bart gives his head an imperceptible shake and instead smiles a little too quickly. He covers weakly, “I just have a fast metabolism, Mrs. Reyes, and enough room to take anything you give me!”

 

“Good, good, now eat as much as you’d like!”

 

Thankfully, the rest of the meal passes smoothly.

 

After dinner, Bianca insists that she doesn’t need help with the clean-up and pushes Jaime and Bart out of the dining room. There is a wickedly mischievous glint in her and her daughter’s eyes, so Jaime grabs Bart and pulls him bodily out the door into the backyard.

 

The El Paso heat in mid-summer is stifling, but at least they can get privacy now.

 

“Sorry about that. I know you’ve met my parents before, but never for _dinner_. It’s like my entire family got taken over by aliens with how utterly _weird_ they were acting.”

“Dude, don’t even joke about that.”

 

“Right, sorry about that _ese_ ,” says Jaime wincing. He pulls Bart down next to him on the backyard swing. “You know, it’s so crazy that things like that that are supposed to be taken as a joke have actually happened in our lives. I never imagined the hero thing would end up quite like this.”

 

“Speaking of alien abductions, do you do that crazy thing every night before dinner or something?”

 

“What crazy thing?”

“You know... when you join hands and perform a séance to crash the mode or something.” Bart shuts his eyes and performs an overblown dramatization of what he means.

 

“You mean _praying?”_ says Jaime incredulously. “No, _hermano_ , that’s when we give thanks to the big guy upstairs. That’s it. Not some crazy summoning ritual or whatever you’re thinking. Just giving thanks. Next time you don’t have join in if you don’t like it, I don’t really care.”

 

“The... big guy upstairs...?” repeats Bart, his turn to sound baffled.

 

“You know. _God_. What, do you not have religion in the future?”

 

“Wait, you can’t be serious. We know gods. _The daughter of one is on our Team_! And there are those New Gods that we read in that case file together that one time, remember? Also no, we don’t have religion in the future.”

 

“Not _those_ gods, God-God! You know? Jesus and the Spirit trinity and stuff!”

 

“That sounds like a disease,” says Bart, waving his hand agitatedly. “Look, point is, I fail to see what’s so special about God-God. We know some gods. We’ve met some, fought with them even. Not all that special.”

 

Jaime shrugs. “If you don’t know the difference, I’m not sure I’m the right person to be explaining it to you.”

 

“Dude, I’m all ears. I’m actually curious as to what kind of B.S. is going to come out of your mouth, _hermano_ ,” says Bart complacently.

  
Jaime exhales audibly. “Well, it’s like this,” Jaime begins, lifting up both of his hands to explain. “My pastor says that all sentient life – yes I guess that includes aliens too since God-God exists in a higher plane – were made from God and He used His own image as a template. God oversees the universe. Makes sure we, His creations, don’t get ahead of ourselves, because good, which comes from God, is constantly at war with evil, which comes from the Devil. We are constantly tempted by evil in the form of sin. So God sent Jesus down to this plane to die and to be crucified so we could understand Him better. So because Christ died for our sins, we can all be saved to go to the kingdom of heaven when we die.”

 

“Aahh, the classic good vs. evil story,” says Bart, voice dripping with melodrama. “And where do the bad guys go?”

 

“Hell, I think? My pastor says stuff about how as long as you confess your sins to Jesus you’ll go up to heaven one day,” says Jaime pensively, scratching his head. “I don’t really understand it.”

 

“But you believe in it,” says Bart pointedly.

  
“Look, _ese_ ,” says Jaime, straightening up and using his legs idly to push the swing. “I just try to follow what the Bible says, even if I don’t get it all the way. Basically what I take from it is that it says is to be a good person and God will reward you.”

 

“No offense, _amigo_ , but that’s a bunch of horse shit,” scoffs Bart, using his own legs to stop the swing. The bitterness in his voice is unmistakable. “There is no such thing as religion in my future, especially because your God had abandoned us for the Devil to walk atop our soil. If He was so powerful, why did He let the you of my future go on mode and start an apocalypse?”

 

“The scarab thinks I’m full of horse shit too,” sighs Jaime, jabbing a thumb to his back. “Not that it used those exact words or anything,” he amends quickly. “And I can’t answer that.”

 

“See why religion’s illogical? How many planets are in this galaxy let alone the entire universe? Not everything is supposed to have a human-centric view, and I’m sure it’s exclusively humans – and not even all of us – that have those kinds of beliefs. If you want to know what Hell looks like, all you need to do is spend two seconds in the future and you’d have a pretty damn good idea of what it’s like.”

 

Jaime shifts uncomfortably. “I’m aware my beliefs are flawed...”

 

“So why do you believe them, then? When nothing about your beliefs makes any real sense whatsoever?” asks Bart, his voice rising dangerously in pitch.

 

“I get that, _hermano_ , it’s just...It’s... It’s... hopeful. My belief in God keeps me hopeful. To wake up every morning and remind myself to fight the good fight.”

  
“Something that’s supposed to be that hopeful isn’t supposed to mode an entire planet,” says Bart quietly.

 

“I don’t really think of it that way,” says Jaime. He stretches his arms up and puts one arm over Bart’s shoulders, who leans in. “Think about it, _ese_ ,” says Jaime, staring up into the moon. “The way I see it is that God has a plan for everyone, and that’s why we’re where we are now. Because we’re following His plan for us. That’s why He chose me to be the Reach’s Earth scarab vessel. That’s why He brought you to me. Because He thought you deserved shot to make things right.”

 

Bart buries himself further into Jaime’s chest. He breathes in deeply and smells the remnants of the night’s dinner and something more – a scent that is uniquely Jaime. The musk makes Bart feel at peace. He closes his eyes and remains silent, still breathing Jaime in and still breathing Jaime out. He guesses Jaime’s right in a way, because if it weren’t for the stars aligning in the right way he’d never have gone back and would have never been held in his way, so tightly. And Bart... Bart enjoys this more than he will ever admit. Jaime indulges the silence, and he and Bart just stay like that, listening to the cicadas chirp a cacophony and watching the fireflies flutter.

 

After a long while, Bart says, muffled in Jaime’s T-shirt, “I can’t afford to think like that. It’s not fair to all the people that died to let me come back in the first place. It’s not fair to the people in my era that are routinely killed for sport or brutally enslaved. They suffered so much. Sacrificed so much. I’m not sure if I believe in absolute good anymore, or if I ever did.”

 

“You’ve made some big sacrifices too, Bart. You’re the bravest, most selfless person I know because you chose self-sacrifice.” Tentatively, Jaime leans his head against Bart’s. “I’m not forcing you to believe what I believe, but I do think for the most part God has been good to me. There’s this prayer, it’s called the serenity prayer.” He takes a deep breath and recites,

“God grant me the serenity  
to accept the things I cannot change;  
courage to change the things I can;  
and wisdom to know the difference.”

 

“That sounds kinda...”

 

“Like bullshit, I know,” says Jaime bemusedly. “That’s what I thought too. But because I met you, I’m beginning to understand it. For me personally, it means accepting that I’ll always have this piece of junk on my back, but that I can also do good with it. That good can come with it. And you did, _hermano_. You came. And that’s why I can reaffirm my beliefs.”

 

Slowly, tentatively, tenderly, Bart climbs onto Jaime’s lap to face him and touches his palm to Jaime’s face. “I love you,” he whispers, tasting the words for the first time. These are the words he believes in, these are the words he will live by. He slowly lifts his chin to meets Jaime’s eager lips.

 

Even if thinks Jaime’s beliefs are ridiculous, even if he will never understand why Jaime holds so much stock to Faith, even if he can never believe himself because of all he’s been through and all he’ll go through, this is enough. For Bart, this is enough.

 

This is all he needs.

 

_Mouths locked, noses bumping, tongues intertwined, fingers laced. Souls tangled. Mode crashed._

 

The radiance of their kisses puts the fireflies to shame.

 

* * *

 

 

_Fin._

 

 


End file.
